


Super Effective

by triste



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:57:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triste/pseuds/triste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sealand goes on a mission to conquer England.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Super Effective

Title: Super Effective  
Author: Triste  
Fandom: Hetalia  
Pairing: Sealand/England  
Rating: PG-13  
Status: Complete  
Disclaimer: Not mine

~~

Sealand was on a mission. Sadly it was one that he could not accomplish alone. He needed help. More specifically, he needed advice.

France was the first person he turned to, not because Sealand thought he would be particularly knowledgeable, but because he and England had been fighting with each other for centuries. He was the one who undoubtedly knew England the best. What Sealand really wanted to find out was England’s weaknesses.

He made sure to address France appropriately as his senior (“Oi, frog”) before getting down to business. “What would be the best way to conquer England?” he asked.

France regarded him with mild surprise. “And you want to know this why?”

“Because I want to conquer him, duh.” Sealand drew himself up to his full (and rather unimpressive) height. “I need to prove to him how wonderful and amazing I am. To do that, I need to conquer him first.”

“I see,” France smiled. “I conquered England once, you know. Long, long ago.”

“Really?” Sealand brightened significantly. His trip hadn’t been a wasted one after all. “Tell me how you did it!”

France’s expression turned contemplative. “I’m not so sure I should. You are a very young boy. You’re still incapable of such things.”

“I can do anything when I put my mind to it!” Sealand insisted.

“But you need to be a little older before you can start doing the things I once did.”

“Seriously? You’re telling me you need age on your side in order to beat someone into submission?”

France winked. “You misunderstand. Violence is not the only way to win a war.”

“I don’t get it,” Sealand said.

France ruffled his hair affectionately. “Of course you don’t. As I mentioned before, you are very young. If you wish for it hard enough, you’ll eventually get bigger someday.”

But Sealand didn’t want to wait for someday to come, he wanted it to happen right now.

That was when the idea came to him.

He needed a wish. Wishes needed magic. England did magic. No one seemed to believe in his abilities, but Sealand could remember visiting England one time to pester him while he’d been doing some spring-cleaning. He’d accidentally caught sight of England’s summoning room. That was what England had called it. Sealand had assumed it was a shrine to Black Sabbath or one of those other ancient music groups England loved so much.

That was when England explained the basics of black magic. He had then gone on to teach Sealand the principles of white magic (Sealand had found the darker variety much more interesting; putting curses on his enemies sounded like fun). In short, white magic was good magic, the kind used to help other people, the earth and so on. That was when England had shown Sealand the tool he used for the casting of such spells.

Sealand still remembered where England kept that wand. England had warned Sealand to stay away from it, that the use of magic in untrained hands could bring about unpredictable results.

Sealand grinned. The solution was as simple as it was brilliant. Using England’s power against him in order to defeat him would be like poetic justice, not to mention awesome beyond words.

Plan set, Sealand was left to lie in wait outside England’s house, knowing he would be out all morning for a conference (one that Sealand, as usual, had not been invited to). That would all change soon, Sealand told himself. Soon he would defeat England and make the other nations officially recognise him. But first, he had to get inside the house.

It was an easy enough job. Sealand was small enough to slip through one of the half open windows at the back. Once in he headed straight to the second floor, only stopping when he found the room he was searching for. England’s wand was right where he’d left it, in a cupboard that he’d left unlocked. Sealand thought he could understand now why villains in movies always cackled maniacally whenever their cunning plan was running smoothly. Sealand decided to try it for himself, an evil laugh. It felt tremendously satisfying.

Once that was over, he took a good look at the wand. On closer inspection, it actually looked quite girly and fake. It really was nothing more than a simple stick with a gold star tacked onto the end. It didn’t look like it could do any kind of magic whatsoever. If anything, it looked like the kind of thing a primary school kid would make in arts and crafts class.

Unfortunately, Sealand’s master plan had not been properly thought through. Although he had obtained the wand easily enough, he had no idea how to use it. England hadn’t told him that much.

Sealand waved the wand about a bit experimentally. “Expelliarmus,” he said. Nothing happened. “Alohamora.” Still nothing. He tried again. “Wingardium leviosa.”

Nothing.

Sealand frowned. Those were the kind of spells that worked for Harry Potter, so why wouldn’t they work for him? Maybe England’s magic wasn’t the type that used incarnations. Maybe it was a more innate thing, like those anime shows from Japan where the characters in them had control over the elements. It was the kind of things monks used to do back in the old days, Sealand recalled, like throwing pieces of paper onto monsters and demons and making them their servants. Sealand wondered if he could make England into his servant by doing something similar. Calling Japan on his cell phone wouldn’t be much use. He would only have it switched off anyway.

Sealand sighed. This wasn’t going as planned. Maybe he had to wish on the wand like people wished on stars. What was it France had said? That if he wished really hard it would come true?

It was worth a try. Nothing else had worked so far.

Sealand clasped the wand tightly to his chest, closing his eyes and clearing his mind of all thoughts with the exception of one: ‘I want to be an adult as quickly as possible so I can conquer England.’

Suddenly his fingertips tingled with an unexpected warmth. It snaked his way through the rest of his body, leaving him dazed and bewildered. Had something just happened? He had no idea.

Then he noticed.

Looking down, he saw the clothes that had fit him fine previously were now much too small for him. They were torn in places and hanging off of him.

He really had grown. His arms and legs were longer, and his face felt thinner and more chiselled when he reached up to touch it.

A mirror, he thought giddily. I need a mirror.

He found one without much trouble, his jaw dropping in amazement when he caught his reflection.

“Oh. My. *God*.”

The sound of the front door opening startled him, but it was only England if the irritated sounded grumbling was anything to go by. Something must have happened for him to return home from the conference this early, but Sealand didn’t care. He had to show off his new adult self. He thundered down the stairs to find England hanging up his coat on the rack in the entranceway. England immediately adopted a defensive stance upon seeing Sealand, his expression panicked.

“Who are you? State your business!”

“It’s me, jerk England!” Sealand told him. “I’ve come to conquer you!”

England’s brow furrowed. “‘Jerk England’? I know that insult. That brat Sealand is the only one who calls me by it.” Then he gawked. “Wait, it can’t be. It’s not possible. You...”

“I told you it’s me,” Sealand said impatiently. “I *am* Sealand!”

“But... but...” England gestured futilely. “You’re too old to be him!”

“I’ve aged myself forwards,” Sealand announced, triumphant. “I am now ten times more awesome than I was before!”

Understanding dawned on England’s features. “You used my magic, didn’t you? That’s how you did this. Didn’t I warn you not to mess about with that wand?”

Sealand stuck his tongue out. “Like I ever do anything you tell me.” Then he whipped out his cell phone and started taking photos of himself with it. “This is so cool. I have to send these pictures to Sweden and Finland. Latvia too.”

“Isn’t there’s something else you should be doing first? Such as, oh I don’t know, turning yourself back?”

“No way!” Sealand exclaimed. “I’m staying like this!”

“Let’s talk about this calmly over tea.”

“Can we have some scones?”

“Yes, all right.”

The problem of Sealand’s clothing was solved by England lending him some of America’s spare clothes he’d left over the last time he came to visit. They fit Sealand almost perfectly. Fond as he was of his sailor uniform, he rather liked the jeans and hoodie combination. It made him feel trendy and fashionable.

One of the best things about being an adult, Sealand thought as he happily set about munching his way through a plateful of scones, was that England was the one forced to look up at him now, rather than it being the other way around.

England was busy mumbling something about bad dreams and déjà vu into his tea, but he refused to elaborate when Sealand pressed him for further details. Sealand could understand his shock. All of England’s former colonies had grown up to be taller than him. It was enough to make Sealand gloat. He really had been destined for greatness. This just proved it.

“So,” England began. “How exactly *did* you get yourself into this situation?”

“I wished for it,” Sealand answered through a mouthful of scone. “I made a wish and it came true.”

England reached across the table with a handkerchief, dabbing away the crumbs that had caught on the side of Sealand’s mouth, ignoring the way Sealand tried to bat him away irritably. “What was the wish? I need to know so I can reverse the spell.”

“I won’t let you,” Sealand said stubbornly. “I don’t want to turn back into my old self.”

“Be that as it may,” England told him, “the magic will wear off eventually whether you want it to or not. I’ve only ever aged people backwards, never forwards, and the effects usually wear off within twenty-four hours.”

“Eh?” Sealand frowned. “That soon?” Then he snickered. “Hey, let’s age France forwards. We could turn him into a doddery old git.”

England’s lips twitched. He was obviously trying not to smile. “That certainly sounds tempting, but no. I think you’ve done enough magic for one day. And I’ll be finding a new hiding place for that wand from now on, by the way. It’s not a toy to be played with.”

“But it actually works! I was so surprised. I thought you were just being weird and delusional about the whole magic thing, but you really do have it in you! My respect for you has gone up by an impressive one per cent!”

Still, being on a tight schedule made things rather more difficult. Sealand had assumed he would have much longer than a mere twenty-four hours in which to fulfil his ambitions, so he had to act fast if he wanted to conquer England. The only trouble was how to do it properly. France had said something about there being ways other than violence to win a war. Had he been talking about psychological torture? Because Latvia seemed to know an awful lot about that.

No, Sealand thought. He needed to handle the rest on his own somehow. But how?

He wondered what France would do. Sealand had often seen him making various failed attempts to grope England in the past. England did not take well to being groped. Sealand enjoyed watching the two of them and trying to predict where England would aim his attack whenever France’s hands became overly friendly. It was almost like a Pokemon battle. (England used crotch kick! It’s super effective! Enemy France has fainted!)

In other words, Sealand had to do all the things England hated. Molestation seemed to be top of the list. It was worth a try, if only to see what kind of entertaining faces he would make.

Sealand made his move when he followed England to the kitchen to help him clean up. England stood at the sink with his back to Sealand, presenting him with a clear target. Sealand grabbed a handful of ass and squeezed. England made a very interesting noise as he peered back over his shoulder.

“What on earth are you *doing*?” he said, scandalised.

“Groping you,” Sealand replied. “It’s what France does, isn’t it?”

“Don’t start copying that pervert. Now let go. You’re disturbing me.”

Sealand did as he was told, but then he snaked a hand around England’s front and slid it under his shirt. England squawked and dropped a saucer into the soapy water. “You’re really skinny,” Sealand observed. “I’m more buff than you are.”

“That’s a borrowed body,” England reminded him, trying to squirm away. “You shouldn’t forget your true self. No matter what you might look like now, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re still a child.”

“No I’m not,” Sealand argued. “I’m over half a century old!”

“My point exactly.”

“Since this form is only temporary, I should get to know it better, right? Is that what you’re saying?”

Now England was blushing. “I never said anything of the sort. Don’t twist my words!”

Sealand moved his hand up higher, grazing his fingers over England’s nipples. They hardened under his touch, causing England to gasp and squirm harder.

“Stop what you’re doing right now! I’m warning you!”

Sealand was starting to see why France found this so much fun. England’s reactions made it all worth it. The way he squirmed against Sealand was also rather nice. Then there were the noises England kept making, little “ah”, “oh”, and “uhn” sounds.

Did everyone get off like this over having their nipples played with? Or was it just England?

He snaked his free hand under his hoodie to taste the theory, but it didn’t seem to have much of an effect. It didn’t make him moan and jerk the way England was doing. Sealand decided to try something different by licking the side of England’s neck. He tasted kind of nice. England hadn’t punched him yet, Sealand noticed. He had excellent reflexes. Sealand wasn't sure why they had become so delayed all of a sudden.

Just because Sealand was young didn’t mean he was stupid. He had access to the Internet. He was exposed to France on a regular basis. On top of that, he’d walked in on his adopted parents in the bedroom more than once.

This was sex, or at least a precursor to it. It was also, as France had stated, another way in which to win a war. The war in question wasn’t exactly a literal one, but rather a metaphorical one. And it certainly would leave Sealand victorious, having successfully invaded England’s vital regions.

Magic was amazing. Sealand could even admit to it being better than technology. Even more amazing was making the once all-powerful England surrender to him.

Sealand smirked, determined to make the most of his twenty-four hours.

 

End.


End file.
